


Winds of Change

by wordsinpaper



Series: 30 Day Writing Challenge [13]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: M/M, Romantic Gestures, because deep down Connor is a big romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:23:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsinpaper/pseuds/wordsinpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If you’d told him two years ago that he’d be here now, he would have laughed in your face. If you’d said the same thing a year ago, he wouldn’t have believed it, no matter how much he would have hoped to make it this far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winds of Change

**Author's Note:**

> I read this sentence once, “shouting against the winds of change will not force those winds to change direction”, and that inspired me to write this. Unbetaed, so if you see a mistake, please tell me. I went back to one of the previous works a couple days ago because I noticed a mistake like 5 words into the story. Don't let me make a fool of myself again, please?

Connor takes a sip of his hot coffee, while he stares intently at the calendar. At a specific day on that calendar, if we’re being precise here.

If you’d told him two years ago that he’d be here now, he would have laughed in your face. If you’d said the same thing a year ago, he wouldn’t have believed it, no matter how much he would have hoped to make it this far.

It’s been 365 days since Oliver gave him a second chance. That’s 525,600 minutes in a relationship. A real relationship. With someone he truly likes. Just the two of them, no one else. And he’s made it. One year without even _wanting_ to change that.

They’d been building it before, but then he’d failed miserably. And hadn’t it been a painful mess?

When he finally managed to convince Oliver that he could do better and that he would do so, not only for Oliver but for himself first and foremost, he wasn’t so sure he’d last this long.

He knows himself better than anyone. He’d been on this “no strings attached” diet for many years. It hadn’t ever affected him negatively. Not until he met Oliver and things turned more serious than he had initially expected.

Things had gone wrong, simply because there had been no limits set for what they had, there wasn’t a list of dos and don’ts. Which, admittedly, might have been his fault, for the most part. See, he was the one who hadn’t approached a relationship idea in years, so when Oliver casually brought it up, he deflected with humor.

He’d realized his mistake not long after that, when he screwed up royally.

So it’s no wonder that when Oliver relented and gave him another chance, even if Connor told him he could change some things – hell, by that time, a lot had already changed within him – the truth was that, deep down, a big doubt remained, eating away at his thoughts and self-confidence.

It’s how it usually goes. You can apply the idea to other scenarios. You never once played basketball, for example. Even if you tell your coach or whoever, really, that you’ll do better, that you’ll work for it, what are the chances of you actually succeeding? The effort is there, for sure, but the results? Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

A year later, here he is, eyes fixed on that calendar, fingers still holding that mug, the coffee not so hot now.

There are fingers brushing against the small of his back. He turns to greet the man who has been by his side all those 8760 hours with a smile and a lingering kiss.

“Up so early?”

“Big day,” is all he says in response.

Oliver looks at the calendar, then back at him, with a confused frown and a small shake of his head, but he doesn’t question him further. Instead, he busies himself with his own breakfast.

They talk about the news and work, even the weather, and bid their goodbyes, going their own separate ways for the next few hours.

It’s funny how certain dates are so meaningful to you that the moment you wake up, you can’t help but take a few minutes to just lie there on your bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking about all the possibilities of that day. Could something happen to make it even more special to you? Will other people go through the trouble of making it a better day for you?

But the reality is rather disappointing. The hundreds of people you cross paths with on the streets on a daily basis don’t know about your special days. They know about theirs, maybe even some of their family and friends’, but definitely not yours. Sometimes it’s your birthday when that person bumps into you without a single apology, too lost in their own thoughts. Sometimes it’s been a year since someone close to you died when your boss yells at you.

It’s the way life works. The world keeps going around, because you’re not any more special than all the other people living and breathing around you.

Today is a special day for him, and even if the world won’t stop to acknowledge it, he’ll do something about it. He’ll make it special for him and Oliver.

He doesn’t think Oliver will expect any of it, and that’s part of the fun. Connor won’t be able to see his reaction when he finds a small bouquet of only a handful of red and yellow tulips waiting for him when he arrives at his desk. Nor won’t he be there to witness the waitress at that place he loves to go for lunch letting a very confused Oliver know that someone already paid for what Connor knows is his favorite desert.

This week’s case was tough, but they’re finally wrapping things up at Annalise’s. Which means he gets to go home earlier and finish some more preparations.

They didn’t really _talk_ about it so much as Oliver handed him a key to his apartment one day, after finding Connor at his door half a dozen times, just waiting for him to arrive.

“At least you can go inside and keep warm, while you’re waiting. That’s all it’ll mean, if you want to see it that way,” he’d said when Connor took the key with a raised eyebrow.

It was the way he’d said it. The way he left it open to interpretation. He left it to Connor to choose seeing it as Oliver only lending him a warm comfortable place to wait for him, or… something warmer and more comfortable, maybe even something more permanent, if he so wished to see it that way.

He’s starting to realize that it’s been a while since he’s used that key to let himself into that apartment only because he didn’t want to be alone and bored out in the hall.

The key turns in the lock and the door opens when he recognizes that he’s starting to make a life here. He’s already got a few of his belongings in the apartment. From his place at the entrance, he can spot two law books pushed up next to the ones that are indubitably Oliver’s, with titles about technical stuff and computers, and the occasional fiction books.

The mug he used this morning has somehow become _his_ mug. Before he picked it one day and made it a recurring thing, he’s pretty sure it’s been sitting in a dark corner of Oliver’s cupboard since long before they met.

There’s also the occasional pieces of clothing mixed with Oliver’s, a spare toothbrush that isn’t so much of a spare now, and the shampoo in the shower that’s more to Connor’s taste than to that of the owner of this place.

He puts his messenger bag down by the couch and takes off his jacket. He proceeds to unbutton his cuffs and roll the sleeves up his arms.

He has exactly two hours before Oliver arrives, so he needs to get this show on the road.

A couple hours later, Connor can hear steps down the hallway and the door being unlocked soon after.

“Oh, hey, you’re – whoa!” Oliver exclaims, looking around the room.

There’s a nice table set up for them, a candle by the side, another yellow tulip next to Oliver’s plate, and a wine bottle at the center, waiting to be opened.

Connor steps behind Oliver and removes his suit jacket before stepping in front of him and also removing his tie.

“What is all this?” Oliver asks, still perplexed by the whole set up. “Are we celebrating some big news at work?”

Connor chances a look over his shoulder as he puts Oliver’s things away. Fifty-two weeks living with that man have taught him the tone he uses when he’s fishing for something. And that’s exactly what he’s doing now.

He would be offended if he wasn’t – well, if he wasn’t Connor.

You know that Connor Walsh from two years ago who would have laughed in your face if you told him he’d last in a relationship with someone for a whole year? He would have totally lost it if you’d told him he’d remember the actual date and make a big romantic deal out of it. So it’s no wonder that Oliver might be a bit skeptical, even if he’s probably gotten it all figured out the moment he saw him gazing at the calendar that morning.

“Actually,” he starts, walking closer to the other man. “Big celebration at home. Here.”

Oliver’s mouth opens in surprise.

“Home, here?”

“Isn’t it? Tell me, when’s the last time you slept on the left side of your bed?”

That earns him a giddy smile and a soft chuckle.

“Point taken. Enlighten me, then, Mr. Left Side.”

He smiles at Oliver, taking his right hand. He steps closer and kisses him lovingly, all but making the other man melt on the spot.

“Is it silly that part of me was hoping you’d remember? It wouldn’t have caused any bad impact if you hadn’t, but I feel like if you did, it’d prove something significant. Does that make any sense?”

Connor nods.

“I wanted to remember. I wanted this time to be different. I want it to be meaningful. I want this to last, Oliver. I want _us_ to last.”

Oliver looks down at that.

“Wow. I mean. I’m… yeah, all that. I want that, too. And believe me when I say that this past year has been wonderful. Though it’s still strange to hear you say things like that.”

“I’ll make it my mission to say them more often, then.”

This time it’s Oliver who kisses him, hand curling around the side of his neck, his thumb lightly stroking his jaw.

Connor breaks the kiss moments later.

“I made dinner. We wouldn’t want that to go to waste, right? We’re in for the whole anniversary experience here. I guarantee you there’s sex on the list, but we still need to cross some things off it first. Next stop: romantic dinner.”

He steps away from Oliver to get the food from the kitchen. When he returns to set it on the table, Oliver is already opening the wine bottle.

“However,” Connor adds when they’re both sitting down. “I won’t stop you from playing footsie with me under the table, if that quenches some of your thirst for all this,” he gestures down his body.

Oliver laughs and shakes his head at him.

“Never change, Connor.”

He already had, but they both know that. It’s what’s gotten them to this point.

And he couldn’t be happier.


End file.
